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Nothing was okay.
A few months ago, Chase got injured during his last tour. Most of his physical injuries were slowly healing. The broken bones, scrapes, and burns were mending, and he had just recently started physical therapy for his leg. His hearing, on the other hand, was injured beyond repair. The blast from the bomb was so strong it damaged his eardrum. He wasn’t completely deaf, but his hearing will never be what it used to be. I tried convincing him that he should go and learn some ASL so we could communicate more easily, but he insisted that he was fine, so I decided to let it be for now. What worried me was that his heart would never recover. Nor would his mind. Although he tried his best to hide it, some nights I would wake up to the sound of him crying for help, tossing and turning in the sweaty sheets, but whenever I tried breaching the subject of his nightmares, he would just turn his back and walk away.
Still, I didn’t miss the fact that the darkscruff covering his jaw has become thicker in the last few weeks, and the bags under his eyes are so dark they seem like twin bruises.
I spot Shadow, Chase’s German Shepard, brush against the side of his leg, her sharp, dark eyes meeting mine. The two of them have been partners for the past two years. She was with him when the explosion happened; one of her legs was injured in the blast, and she was still limping on that paw, but that didn’t stop her from being there for Chase. It’s like the dog could sense when his PTSD was intensifying, so she was always there to offer him support.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize as I move inside the room. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep at all?”
“Like usual,” Chase grumbles. “Fuck.”
He turns around to the stove, but it’s already too late. The scent of burnt scrambled eggs reaches my nostrils. I open my mouth to warn him, but before I can utter a word, he grabs the metal handle of the pan and starts to lift it. He gets to the sink before he curses and drops it.
“Here.” I move quickly, opening the faucet and gently pushing his hand under the lukewarm spray as I inspect the red mark on his palm. “I don’t think it’s too serious.”
Chase chuckles humorlessly. “What’s one more scar?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something I shouldn’t. But it’s hard. So damn hard when all I want is to shake him and remind him that he’s still here,alive. It’s not like it will make any difference. What happened out east haunted him, and I know he wondered why he was still here when so many of his friends died that day, but I would never stop being grateful for getting my brother back—broken and bruised, but weren’t we all in some ways?
Turning off the faucet, I grab the towel and wrap his hand in it. “How about I make us some breakfast? We both know I’m the better cook.”
A flash of light shines in my brother’s eyes, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Still, I count it as a win. “Be my guest.”
“Sit down.”
Tossing the remnants of his burned eggs into the trash, I pull out a new pan. Then, I turn on the coffee machine before grabbing all the ingredients while waiting for my coffee to brew.
I look over my shoulder, meeting Chase’s eyes. “You want some, too?”
Chase silently shakes his head as he slowly makes his way to the table. He was still limping on his right leg, and I doubted that the doctor cleared him to walk without crutches, but I knew better than to probe.
These last few months, I’ve learned how to pick my battles regarding my older brother, and this one wasn’t worth it.
Adding some sugar and creamer, I take a long pull of the black gold, enjoying that first hit of caffeine in my system. God knows I’ll need it to survive today.
Less than five minutes later, I’ve already finished half my cup, and the bacon is sizzling on the stove. I’m adding eggs when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I turn around just as Mom appears in the doorway, her dark purple flower nightgown still on as she looks around the room, disoriented.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Morning. Yeah, I…” A frown appears between her brows. “What time is it?”
“Just after seven,” I flash her a reassuring smile. “I’m making breakfast. Do you want some?”
There is a heartbeat of silence as Mom glances from me to the pan and then back, in which I hold my breath. “Did you burn something?”
A chuckle breaks out of me as relief spreads through my body. “Chase was cooking. Needless to say, it didn’t end well.”
“Chase?” Her head goes to the table where Chase sat down, Shadow’s head resting on his knee. She rushes toward him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she squeezes him tightly.
I see my brother flinch at the contact, but then, after a moment, he relaxes, his arms slowly curling around her slender waist.
“Hey, Ma.”
She pulls back, her hands cupping his cheeks as she looks at him. “When did you get home?”
“A while ago.”
Turning around, I finish preparing breakfast as I listen to the two of them talk. Chase has been a silent grump ever since he returned home, but even he couldn’t say no to Mom.
